


Breaking The Waves

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono makes a call to Edge from halfway around the world. Set in early 2002.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking The Waves

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm meant to be writing The Scientist and I promise I am working on it, I've written thousands of words on it in fact, but I've had a hard couple of weeks and have been pretty down, and it lead to this. It's a hard era to write, and it's pretty heavy, and it was inspired by an old interview I read of Bono's and a story he told about his dad a few years back. There had also been rumors that they were going to tour Australia in 2002, but that never came to pass and there were reports that it was because they wanted to give Bono a bit of a break. I've never been to Bali, but I'm Australian and have been to Queensland a few times, and Fiji (where they drive just like I described, omw), and the air up there can be so hot and thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Edge knew that he was dreaming, dreaming of bright colours. In the distance there was the faint beat of a drum, and he wanted to head towards the noise, towards the person making it, but his feet were stuck in the sand. He tried anyway; tried to pull his feet from the sand, and to force himself awake. He even tried to ignore the pinks and the blues of the dresses dancing around him, and when nothing worked he sat down in the sand and just breathed. Deep calming breaths. When his feet finally came free he just stretched his legs out under the beat of the sun and lay there with his eyes squeezed tight. It was where he wanted to stay.

The drums gave way to a shrill sound, causing him to jerk up. The brightness was gone, replaced with the faintest light. He was at a loss, and when the sound kept on going his head clouded, until a hand shoving at his shoulder made him realize. He knew exactly where he was.

The phone rang again, sounding like it was getting louder with each second passing, louder and more insistent. Edge had an inkling as to exactly who was on the other line, because who else could cause a phone to sound so bossy so early in the morning?  He hesitated, but it just kept on ringing. Morleigh poked him once more. “Make it stop,” she said, sounding as groggy as Edge felt.

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching for the phone. “Hello?”

“I’m so lonesome I could cry,” sang Bono, his voice dragging out loudly against the receiver. Edge immediately threw the covers back and slid out of bed. “I’ve never seen a night so long.”

He was terribly off key, and Edge wasn’t entirely sure why that was the first thought that had popped into his head. Shutting the bathroom door behind him, he flicked on the light before flatly saying, “You’re drunk.”

“I am,” Bono confirmed, sounding much too proud of himself. “My friend Jameson and I have been spending some quality time together this fine evening. Does it make you jealous, Edge?”

Edge shook his head as he sat down on the closed toilet lid. It was far too early for this Bono, and he was running on far too little sleep. “Bono, I was sleeping.”

“Lucky you.” Bono sighed, his breath bursting loud through the phone. “Listen. Can you hear the waves?” There was a pause, and then Bono began to hum. It was so faint that Edge could picture him sitting there, wherever he was, his arm stretched out holding the phone towards the ocean. “Did you listen?”

“I couldn’t hear them.”

“There’s a storm coming, I think. I’m sure of it, almost. The waves are getting choppier and the air is so sticky. It’s hot here. It’s so hot.” He chuckled. “I want to go swimming in the waves tonight, Edge. Could you imagine if I drowned here? They might not know for days.”

He was still laughing, and the sound and the image that sprung to mind set Edge’s anxiety levels skyrocketing. He could picture Bono, face down and lurching against the rocks, and he looked to his feet pressed against the cold tiles for an anchor back to reality. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? They wouldn’t, you know. I’d just keep on drifting away from here.”

“Where _is_ here?”

“You should come, Edge,” Bono said. “You have to come. Come and have a drink with me.”

“Bono—”

“You’re a better swimmer than I am. You were built for the sea.”

Edge leaned against his knees. It was definitely too early for this, and Bono was humming again, humming Hank Williams in his ear. “Where are you, Bono?”

“Bali.”

It was so unexpected that Edge choked back a laugh. Bali? That was one place that would never have even occurred to him. “Bali? Bono, Jesus. Why?”

“Because I wanted to. I found a nice little place away from it all.”

“That’s a long flight.”

“I like to fly. I can sleep there, you know. Sleep in the sky.”

It was true. Bono slept better on planes than anyone Edge knew, though admittedly he had never spent much time watching other people on planes. Mostly it was just Bono, sitting at his side after giving up the window seat because he knew how Edge liked to watch the clouds. “What time is it there?”

“It’s starting to rain.” Bono’s voice was full of awe and Edge couldn’t help but smile. He was frustrated, he was exhausted and he didn’t know when he’d be allowed to get off the phone and go slip back under the covers where it was warm, but Bono was still amazed by the rain after all his years. “You have to come.”

Edge shook his head. “My family—”

“I’m family, Edge. Aren’t I family?” The awe was gone, replaced with something different entirely, and Edge didn’t know how to respond. He could hear the rain though, in the background on Bono’s side and accompanied by the wind, not loud enough to howl but enough to make an impression. “I need you here with me.”

“I can’t,” Edge said, the words coming out as weak as he assumed they would. He listened to the wind and the rain while Bono stayed quiet, until the sound of the weather took over his breathing completely. “You should go back inside. It sounds like it’s getting rough out there.”

 “It is. You should see the waves, Edge, they’re incredible. And the water, it’s so clear that you can see the bottom of the ocean. I burnt my feet on the sand today, and the water was so cool, so soothing that I almost fell to my knees right there in the sea to give my thanks.” Edge squeezed the phone tighter against his ear. He could hear the wind, hear the rain but it was away from Bono, and he pictured him on a deck barely under cover. Looking out at the water with big plans and a bottle of whiskey at his side. Such big plans were often dangerous. The panic rose up in Edge’s chest, so quickly that he barely had time to catch his breath. “It’s so hot here, Edge. I want to go back out there to get cool.”

“Go inside and have a cold shower then.”

“It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Oh Jesus.”

“What?”

“Lightning.” Bono’s laughter came through thinly. “There’s electricity in the air, it’s making my arms feel prickly. You know that smell that comes with a storm on a hot summer night?”

“Yes.”

“I can barely hear you.” Bono laughed again, abrupt before cutting it off completely. There was a crack in the background, snapping through the wind, and it felt so real that Edge could almost see the lightning right there above the bathtub. “I need you here. I need you badly.”

The words twisted Edge’s stomach. They always did when Bono said such things. “Bono, I don’t know.”

“Suzanne knows where I’m staying, just give her a call,” Bono continued like Edge hadn’t spoken. “You can watch the clouds on the way over. I’ll make it worth the trip, I will.” He sounded close to pleading, and Edge waited for him to go on trying to convince him. But he was left with nothing but the sound of the rain and the wind.  No, there was something else there, something in between it all that Edge couldn’t quite make out but he knew it was the waves, lapping closer and closer to the house. Closer to Bono.

He looked to the closed door. Surely by now Morleigh had given up on him and fallen back asleep. She’d be up soon anyway, to get organized for the children. To get ready for whatever she had planned for them today. She didn’t deserve such heartache. But Edge had never been able to say no to Bono.

“Bono—” he started, and it was only then he realized that he’d been left with nothing but a dial tone.

 

* * *

 

 

The air was thick and sticky, hitting him like a wave as he stepped outside. It was tempting to turn and go back inside, escape the near-suffocating humidity, but after gulping down half a bottle of water Edge felt as though he could make it through. The plane had been so cold, and he hated the airline for it. Hated how he was forced to wear jeans and a jacket on such a long trip, while destined to end up in a place so hot.

After stripping off his jacket he found his ride. In the car he drank some more water while his driver chatted about the people, the traffic and his cousins, among other things. It was terrible, but Edge was already blanking on the man’s name, despite having heard it only minutes beforehand.

Clearly his mind was on other things, as well as feeling foggy from the flight, the compressed air that he’d been subjected to. And, of course, there was the heat. The overwhelming tropical heat that reminded him of the very tip of Australia. It made sense. They were so close, after all. As it seemed, there were so many ways he could think to justify being rude, and it seemed official: he was turning into a prick.

At his side, the man continued on like an excitable puppy. Edge said the odd word back, hoping he was offering up the right responses, and that there was a sense of politeness shining through. It wasn’t like him to be rude, really. But sometimes it just happened. Sometimes a lot of things just happened. They wove in and out of traffic at an alarming rate, leaving Edge to grip at the side of his seat, almost unconsciously. Somehow, the man didn’t miss a beat. He was talking now about the weather, but Edge barely heard him. It was nothing but white noise at his side.

They were surrounded by cars and scooters, all heading the same way. It was only once they were on the outskirts of the city that the traffic started to thin out, more and more until they were away from it all. So far out Edge saw only the occasional house and person and green, so much green. The man was silent now, thankfully, but the radio turned up. It was playing one of their songs. Because of course it was. The man didn’t make the connection though. It was doubtful that he even knew who Edge was. Still, he was tempted to turn the radio off, but it seemed like a ridiculous thing to do. Instead, he leaned back and closed his eyes, though sleep appeared far out of reach. The trip had drained him, but life had left him so wired he felt close to trembling.

They arrived far too quickly, and after helping with his bags the man gave Edge an expectant smile. Edge paid him double.

He waited until the car was far in the distance before turning to really look around. The place was far smaller than what he’d thought it might be, with a wooden deck that wrapped around the entire house, the roof jutting out to cover it only part of the way. The ocean stretched out in front of the house, its water so clear and blue that it didn’t quite look real. With the sand coming up so close to the stairs, Edge wondered if high tide was an issue. He could easily picture the water lapping at the deck. He could picture a lot of things.

Listening to the gentle sound of waves against the rocks, he looked over at where he’d just come from. The road was made of dirt, winding through the middle of the hills, and he could see nothing but green and flecks of different colours from the various flowers scattered through. It was a stunning sight. The entire place was stunning, truly beautiful. It was easy to see why Bono had sought it out. It seemed like a painting, and Edge could have stood there for hours taking it all in. But the heat felt like it was closing in on him, and besides, he’d flown all that way for a reason. He could only ignore that fact for so long, and after taking one final scan of the horizon, Edge turned and walked towards the reason.

Setting his bags on the deck, he opened the screen door before knocking against hard wood. At least a minute passed before he knocked again, louder this time, and soon enough the curtains shifted in the window to his left. He couldn’t see the face, but it didn’t matter. It was a face he knew, better than he knew his own. The curtains fell back into place, he heard the click of the locks, and then the door swung open.

Bono’s smile wasn’t as big as Edge had expected, but it matched the rest of him. The air quickly felt stale, smelling of alcohol, and Edge could see why in the bags under Bono’s eyes, the deep lines around his mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Edge fought back a wince at the rough scratch of Bono’s voice, and it wasn’t only because that voice was his bread and butter. God, it was so much more than that. He picked up his bags, stepping inside only when Bono shuffled sideways. The screen door slammed behind him, loud enough to make him jump, and Bono didn’t even crack a smile. He just closed the wooden door before fumbling for the light switch. For a moment they just stood there looking at one another, and then Edge set his bags down once more. “You practically begged me to come.”

Bono shrugged. “I didn’t think you would though.”

His gaze strayed to the floor as he shifted from one foot to the other, and then he was leaning in to hug Edge tightly. As he brought his arms up and around, Edge couldn’t stop the sigh from leaving his lips. He had to smile, though, when Bono’s nose dug deeply into his neck. It brought him back to so many times before, some good, some bad. Mostly, he couldn’t help but focus on the bad times, but for that single moment Edge let himself be moved.

The scent of a hard night clung to Bono, but he seemed sober enough, and when he drew in a deep breath it almost seemed like he was breathing Edge in. A part of Edge hoped that he was. It didn’t feel wrong to just hope such things. It did feel wrong to draw Bono in closer, but, like always, he just couldn’t help himself. Bono let out a slight chuckle that almost sounded like relief, his fingers tightening in the material of Edge’s shirt before he finally pulled away.

His smile was wider now, and without a word he leaned down and picked up the smaller of Edge’s bags. Edge took the other and together they made their way through the house. In the lounge there was beautiful fireplace behind the blue couch, its dark fixtures standing out among the wooden slats of the walls. Two steps took them into a hallway, where they passed the bathroom. Edge caught sight of green tiles and a deep bath with golden taps as they went, and it was only another few steps before they came to the bedroom.

The bed was unmade, appearing as rumpled as Bono. Edge had barely been able to take him in, but now that there was no other distraction he struggled to look away. It was well after three, but from the mess of hair and that look in his eye, Edge was certain he’d woken Bono up. His feet were bare and he was clad in a black shirt and running shorts. He looked casual enough, like he should in a place like Bali, but still Edge didn’t like what he was seeing. He set his bag down at the foot of the bed. “It’s nice here.”

“I told you.” Bono placed the smaller bag by the other, and with one hand he gestured around the room, the other running through his hair. “There’s only one bedroom.”

From how big the house was, Edge had suspected as much. “Alright.” With a careful eye he continued to watch Bono, taking in the way his eyes flickered around the room before landing on Edge’s face. “You look like shit.”

Bono laughed. “I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror today, Edge, but you’re not that sparkly either.”

Edge couldn’t argue with him there. But at least his level of shit had been caused by flying halfway around the world. On too little sleep. “I have an excuse, what’s yours?”

Bono just shrugged, his expression slipping as he glanced away. A faint smile appeared as he studied Edge’s bags. “You brought a lot of stuff.”

 “I wasn’t told how long I was expected to be here, so.”

 Bono nodded, and after saying, “We’ll find out, won’t we,” they lapsed into a strange silence. This was what Edge had flown halfway around the world for. He could have said no. The older he got, the easier it was to say no when the moment called for it. Still, he’d struggled with it in the past, there were times he struggled with it in the present, and he had enough smarts about him to look back at a time and know that he’d made a mistake. He should have said no. But when Bono glanced back at him, Edge knew, like he’d always known, that he had to say yes.

When Bono smiled, the deep lines on his forehead smoothed out, and Edge just couldn’t help himself. He stepped in and hugged Bono, so tightly that a muffled laugh sprung forth and filled the room. His arms, though, stayed by his sides. It felt like holding a flighty bird, but Edge didn’t loosen his embrace. He’d flown halfway around the world for this. _This_.

In the shower Edge brought Bono’s shampoo and soap to his nose, breathing in the scent before using them. It was strange, how a person could realize how strongly they had missed something only after being reunited with it. The smell was familiar, bringing forth a certain comfort that he couldn’t quite put a name to. It wasn’t quite home, but he relished it all the same.

He took his time beneath the water, letting the heat work away the tightness of his muscles. Before stepping out he brought the shampoo to his nose one last time.

With a towel wrapped around his waist he made his way to the bedroom. There he found Bono stretched out on the bed, a lazy hand trailing up and down his stomach. When Edge stepped further into the room Bono turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow as his legs slowly parted. Well, no one had ever accused him of being subtle. Ignoring the display, Edge jerked his thumb back towards the door.  “It’s your turn.”

“No.”

“Bono—”

“Come here.”

“No, you fucking stink.” Whipping his towel off, Edge started to dry himself off properly, turning away when he felt Bono’s eyes on him. He made a show of opening his suitcase and pulling out some fresh clothes, and it was only when he started to dress that Bono seemed to get the hint. Still, he fussed around on the bed a while longer, making a few frustrated sounds that were almost words, before finally dragging himself past Edge and out the door.

The kitchen was small, with white cupboards, dark marble countertops, and a stove that looked as though it had never been used. Not by the current tenant, anyway. The inside of the fridge was almost bare. Edge wasn’t surprised. He could easily picture Bono living off of booze in a place like this, though there was an open box of Kellogg’s cereal on the counter—although it seemed a stretch to think of something that consisted of nothing but sugar and air and claims of chocolate as _food_. Still, it was something. Edge even considered making himself a bowl, but moved past the temptation, opting for a cheese sandwich instead. He ate it quickly over the sink before rinsing his place, then pulled out the last two clean wine glasses. In the fridge there was a bottle of sparkling Rosé, light and Australian, with a label he faintly recognized. He generously filled the glasses before putting the bottle back, then slipped an apple into his pocket and headed outside. After carefully setting the glasses down, Edge sat on the steps and ate his apple, watching the waves break against the rocks until the screen door slammed shut behind him.

Bono came to stand over him, his hair damp and his mouth turned downwards, but he looked far brighter than he had before. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “There’s a couple of chairs we can sit on.”

Edge took his hand.

Around the side of the house were two deck chairs facing out towards the ocean, their cushions looking more than well loved. An empty bottle of Jameson was on its side between the chairs. A vivid picture of that night sprung to mind, and Edge almost pulled his arm back when Bono reached for his wine. Almost.

With the glass firmly in hand Bono settled down on his chair, where he watched expectantly until Edge took a seat. Turning to scan the water, Bono was quiet, so quiet and so still it left Edge uneasy. It didn’t seem right for Bono to be like that. It never seemed right for Bono to be like he had been recently. There had to be something Edge could do. It’s why he was here, after all. Presumably. “It’s cooling down a bit," he said.

“Yeah.”

 “Have you eaten?”

With a grin, Bono pointedly raised his glass in the air before taking a drink. Edge’s chest tightened at the sight. There was a growing sense that he’d been feeling, one that had been there at least since that phone call, but maybe longer—maybe months—and now, as he watched Bono, that feeling went from niggling to something more. Something he just couldn’t calm. Taking a drink of his own, Edge found that the wine wasn’t as light as he had expected. He set the glass down onto the deck, and Bono let out a sigh. From the look on his face, he knew what was coming. It was almost enough to keep Edge from asking but he had to know. “Why did you come here?”

Bono just shrugged. He was silent for a while, his gaze fixed to the deck as he rubbed at his thigh with his free hand. “You all wouldn’t let me come to Australia. This was as close as I could get without breaking the rules.” He took another drink before letting out a bitter laugh, and Edge’s patience thinned.

 “Bono—”

“It’s the other side of the world, isn’t it? Look at that water.”

“I have.” Edge continued to watch Bono, taking in his blank expression. Beneath the heavy stubble his jaw looked sharper than it had in some time, his face lined and weary. In a voice far calmer than he felt, Edge said, “It was the right decision to make, ending the tour when we did.”

“Perhaps.”

“It was.”

Bono shook his head, sparing Edge a quick glance before turning back to the ocean. “It’s so calm here. There was nothing but me and the waves.” He kept studying the water, so intently that Edge felt compelled to follow his gaze. The waves broke gently against the rocks and sand, but further out the water was so still it left Edge feeling unnerved. Sometimes, the most terrible things hid below such calmness. “I came here a few months ago, did I tell you?”

 “I remember.”

“Ali said I needed some air. So I decided to stop in for a drink on my way to Chicago, what with it being on the way and all.” Bono snorted out a laugh. “I was only going to—I ended up staying for longer than I meant to, you know?  But, I mean, it’s different here. It _smells_ different, don’t you think? That smell, it’s like no place I’ve ever been to before, and the people here, they wear the most beautiful colours, Edge, you should see them. I watched them the last time I was here, watched them bow to each other and thank each other, and there were these beautiful girls riding on the backs of scooters going to temple with both their legs to one side. In the end, I had to force myself back onto that plane. I missed the air here, Edge. I missed the people. It’s funny though, isn’t it?”

The words had rushed out of him so quickly they had left Edge slightly overwhelmed. It took him a second to find his voice. “What’s funny?”

The grin that appeared on Bono’s face didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve stuck myself in this house away from them all.” With a heavy sigh, he turned back towards the water and took another sip of wine. “Are you getting hot yet?”

Edge had barely noticed the heat, though once mentioned it seemed odd to think that only a few hours prior he’d been shivering inside of a plane. Still, the heat remained a passing thought in the back of his mind. There were other things to stray his thoughts. He reached out to grasp Bono’s wrist, dragging his thumb back and forth across delicate skin. He could feel Bono’s pulse racing. “Hey.”

 “I don’t feel like myself, Edge,” Bono murmured before pulling away. Edge’s arm fell lax against the side of the chair. “I don’t.”

Edge didn’t respond. They’d had this conversation already, not long before Christmas. He’d not really known what to say then either. Instead, he’d just held a trembling hand until Bono changed the subject, changed it to song and drink. As it was, they had celebrated the upcoming holiday justly and woken up with the pain, woken up both at a loss.

 “I was thinking the other night,” Bono said with a hint of a smile. “Before I called you. I was thinking about a few years back when I took Dad out on the town in Paris. Did I tell you about that?”

“Yes.”

“He drank me under the table.” Bono laughed. “I was ruined, I was utterly ruined and he thought it was hilarious. He ended up having to drag me back to the hotel and put me to bed. My father, Edge, Bob—he put me to bed. Can you believe it?”

Edge could. Easily. It had seemed obvious to almost everyone just how much Bob adored his son, from the way he looked at Bono when he wasn’t looking to how he proudly called him an _eejit._

Bono continued, “I was thinking the other night that it was the only time I could remember him putting me to bed. I don’t remember him ever doing it when I was a child.”

“He must have.”

Bono shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He fell quiet for a while, his gaze back to the water, and while Edge was glad he came, truly glad to have travelled so far, in that moment all he wanted to do was go and hide in the house. Anything to escape that look on Bono’s face. “I remember the room spinning and my stomach rolling but I was happy. I was, Edge. And I could hear him; he was singing in the other room, singing his opera as I started to fall asleep.” He downed his drink and set the glass down onto the deck before climbing to his feet.

Edge expected him to just walk away, towards the water or back into the house, but he took a single step closer, sitting down on the small space at Edge’s hip. The position left his arse hanging mostly off the side. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but when Edge shifted over to give him more room, Bono didn’t take it. He just stayed where he was, his breath far from steady, and when he brought a hand down against Edge’s stomach it wasn’t a surprise.

“What can I do?”

Bono’s lip quirked. “What you always do.”

It was an ambiguous statement, and on another day Edge might have taken it as an innocent request, one that kept him firmly as a constant presence at Bono’s side, in his life. But halfway through that phone call it had become clear what Bono was asking of him. And even if it hadn’t, the look on Bono’s face then would have been enough to paint a picture. Of course he’d expected it. But now that he was here, it all seemed much too real. He sat up straight, but Bono’s hand found his chest none too gently, pushing Edge back down. “Bono—”

 “No, let me take care of you.” Bono’s voice was soothing, a wide smile gracing his face as his palm sought out the thump of Edge’s heart. “Tell me where it hurts and I’ll make it worth your while.” He shifted then, so swiftly that there was little time to prepare for his next move. Swinging his leg up and over he came to straddle Edge's hips. It was so tempting to push up into him, and when Bono’s arse pressed into his crotch Edge very nearly did. Such a simple act was enough to drag his thoughts firmly south, but Edge didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when he looked Bono in the eye and found the dullest of blue. It seemed wrong to take the lead when it wasn’t for him. He was fine, and he very nearly told Bono just that, and more. That Bono had it the wrong way entirely. Edge didn’t need taking care of, there was nothing there to fix. But then, Bono already knew that. Of course he knew that. Edge was stupid to think otherwise.

This wasn’t for him.

He just kept his mouth shut and waited for Bono to make his move. It came in a deliberate drag of his hips, accompanied by a wicked look sent Edge’s way. “You flew halfway around the world for this, after all.”

“I flew halfway around the world to make sure you hadn’t drowned,” Edge insisted, but his poise was quickly crumbling. It was easy to think he should wait for Bono to take the lead, but when such a look was sent his way it became hard, harder still when those hips dragged once more. And when Bono smiled at him in that way, that one particular way that they both knew just worked, Edge gave in completely. He gripped at Bono’s waist and pulled him closer, pulled him down until his lips parted. It was a moan he expected, that he waited for, but Bono surprised him with a laugh instead. And then he was rolling away. Off the chair and onto his feet, leaving Edge behind as he walked away. “Sex and drowning are practically the same thing, Edge.”

For a moment Edge steadied himself on the chair. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. But it wasn’t his choice to make. With a steady hand, he picked up his glass and finished off the rest of the wine. Then he got up, heading away from the hot air and into the house, where he found Bono waiting for him. With that look on his face. It made Edge want to kiss him, to pull him close and let him know exactly what he needed. But Bono just kept him moving, through the house until they could strip naked in the bedroom and fall against cool sheets.

Bono was sticky against him, the faintest sheen of sweat already covering his body. They would both need another shower after this. A shower and some sleep, side by side in the same goddamn bed. Already it felt so familiar, but when Edge leaned in to kiss him Bono pulled away. He shook his head, a stuttered laugh coming out, and when he pressed a cursory kiss to Edge’s shoulder it didn’t feel earned. Something felt off, but it was only when Bono reached into the top drawer and pulled out a tube of lubricant that it hit Edge: this was how it was going to be.

He let Bono touch him until he was hard and slick, the uncapped tube being carelessly tossed onto the carpet. There was a pause as Bono looked him over, breathing deeply, and then he closed his eyes and breathed deeper still. The sight cut right through Edge. “Bono—”

“Shh.” It came out sounding almost sweet, but Bono looked anything but. His smile was forced, his eyes wild, and it seemed wrong. _He_ seemed wrong, but before Edge could even hesitate Bono had straddled him, reaching back a slippery hand to grasp at his cock.

“Wait.”

Edge—” Bono cut himself off with a shake of his head, biting his lip as he looked down at Edge. And then he was smiling, so brightly that Edge almost believed it. His hand hadn’t strayed, but his smile did as he started to lower himself down.

Edge grabbed at his hips, not knowing what else to do. It wasn’t that he wanted Bono to stop completely. He didn’t. God, how he didn’t. His hope was to just stop them both long enough, until Edge could work at Bono, work him open with his fingers so that it would be a gentle slide. It had been so long. It had been too fucking long, and he was more than ready, but he was the only one. But Bono just kept on until he could feel the heat, the tightness, and although Bono only choked out a simple cry, the look on his face left Edge wondering just how much he was holding back. “Bono—”

“No,” Bono hissed through clenched teeth.

Edge fell silent. He watched Bono’s face though, watched his lips pull back and his brow furrow as he moved. And it wasn’t a gentle slide, not in the least, but it was something that Edge had missed—badly. The feel of Bono around of him, the fucking smell of him, Christ, he’d not realized just how much he’d missed it. A groan slipped from his lips, and then again when Bono stopped, not quite flush against Edge but close enough. The breath rushed from his lungs as he tried to steady himself, and although Edge could tell from his face that it hadn’t worked, it didn’t stop Bono from moving again. He couldn’t hide the wince that crossed his face as he drew himself up and down, and his groan filled Edge with dread. It wouldn’t do. It couldn’t. Not like this. It wasn’t about what Bono wanted. Not now. Edge could only care about what Bono needed.

It only took one swift move to roll them, and it was enough to take Bono by surprise. He protested, loudly, and tried to switch back, but Edge stayed strong. It was a prick move, he was sure, but he knew Bono. If asked, not only would a no have come, but he might have been prepared for whatever Edge next dared to try. And although Bono struggled and glowered, eventually he seemed to realize that Edge just wasn’t going to budge. It was then he went slack, blinking up at Edge like he’d lost some great battle. His knees fell open, his eyes closed, and when Edge slid back in his head lolled to the side. “Hard,” he demanded.

Edge chose gentle. It was the only way, and he managed to ignore the angry words that Bono spewed into the air, the sounds of frustration and the desperate tilt of hips. He just kept at a steady pace, until it all melted away and Bono was dragging him down, pulling him close and kissing him. Gently. Edge hadn’t dared dream of Bono being so gentle this time.

“Edge.” His hands remained around Edge’s neck, but his eyes closed, a bead of wetness running down his temple to dampen the pillow. Whether it was a tear or simple sweat, Edge just couldn’t be sure. But it was enough to still his hips, as hard as it was against the burn in his groin. Bono opened his eyes. There was a pinkness high up on his cheeks, confusion written across his face, and his gaze stayed locked on Edge’s face, even as he trailed one hand down to grip Edge’s arse, bringing him closer. Urging him forward. “I’m glad I came,” Edge said.

A shudder went through Bono, through the both of them, and quickly he turned his face towards the wall. “You didn’t have to stop to tell me that.”

It was true. But Edge doubted Bono would have listened had he not. Sure, he might have heard the words, but he wouldn’t have listened. And it was something that Bono needed to know. Because Edge was. He was so fucking glad, in a way that he could feel deep inside, aching in his chest. He wanted to start moving again, to roll his hips and make Bono cry out, to pull him close until there was nothing more to give. He waited, though, until Bono turned back to look at him.

The smile that appeared wasn’t something that Edge expected, but he savoured it all the same. And when Bono’s arms came back around, his heels digging into Edge’s back, it was clear that a part of him still wanted it harder. Wanted it to burn, to make its mark and not be forgotten. But Edge just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t what he needed.

Bono didn’t complain, just drew him closer, his breath shuddering in Edge’s ear until it slowly evened out. And it might not have been what he wanted, that much was clear, but when he finally did whisper Edge’s name, it seemed as though it was more than enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Revised June 2017


End file.
